As I traveled on several missions trips the poignant thoughts about spoiled Americans that my Jamaican friend shared with me many years ago were always in the back of my mind. I recall a missions trip to Santa Cruz and La Paz, Bolivia where street children worked to survive. They were as young as five years old. They lived in parks and slept under park benches. People sold pencils and cocoa leaves on the street corner. In contrast, here in the U.S, we have welfare and unemployment insurance. There would be nice homes on one block and in the same block there would be a home without any windows and a dirt floor. Here in the U.S. most neighborhoods are not mixed
As I traveled on several missions trips the poignant thoughts about spoiled Americans that my Jamaican friend shared with me many years ago were always in the back of my mind. I recall a missions trip to Santa Cruz and La Paz, Bolivia where street children worked to survive. They were as young as five years old. They lived in parks and slept under park benches. People sold pencils and cocoa leaves on the street corner. In contrast, here in the U.S, we have welfare and unemployment insurance. There would be nice homes on one block and in the same block there would be a home without any windows and a dirt floor. Here in the U.S. most neighborhoods are not mixed